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Two and One 


SUNSHINE LIBRARY. 


Aunt Hannah and Seth. By James Otis. 

Blind Brother (The). By Homer Greene. 

Captain’s Dog (The). By Louis finault. 

Cat and the Candle (The). By Mary F. Leonard. 
Christmas at Deacon Hackett’s. By James Otis, 
Christmas°T ree Scholar. By Frances Bent Dillingham. 
Dear Little Marchioness. 

The Story of a Child’s Faith and Love. 

Dick in the Desert. By James Otis. 

Divided Skates. By Evelyn Raymond. 

Gold Thread (The). By Norman MacLeod, D.D. 

Half a Dozen Thinking Caps. By Mary Leonard. 

How Tommy Saved the Barn. By James Otis. 
Ingleside. By Barbara Yechton. 

J. Cole. By Emma Gellibrand. 

Jessica’s First Prayer. By Hesba Stretton. 

Laddie. By the author of “ Miss Toosey’s Mission.” 
Little Crusaders. By Eva Madden. 

Little Sunshine’s Holiday. By Miss Mulock. 

Little Peter. By Lucas Malet. 

Master Sunshine. By Mrs. C. F. Fraser. 

Miss Toosey’s Mission. By the author of “ Laddie.” 
Musical Journey of Dorothy and Delia. 

By Bradley Gilman. 

Our Uncle, the Major. A Story of 176.5, By James Otis. 
Pair of Them (A). By Evelyn Raymond. 

Playground Toni. By Anna Chapin Ray. 

Play Lady (The). By Ella Farman Pratt. 

Prince Prigio. By Andrew Lang. 

Short Cruise (A). By James Otis. 

Smoky Days. By Edward W. Thomson. 

Strawberry Hill. By Mrs. C. F. Fraser. 

Sunbeams and Moonbeams. By Louise R. Baker. 

Two and One. By Charlotte M. Vaile. 

Wreck of the Circus (The). By James Otis. 

Young Boss (The). By Edward W. Thomson. 


THOMAS Y. CROWELL & COMPANY, 

NEW YORK. 





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“BY CHANCE HE SAT ON THE OLD GRAY ROCK.” See page 16. 






,V/^ 

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THE LIBRARY OF 
CONGRESS, 
Two Cowea Received 

SEP. 28 190t 


Copyright entry 

CLASS ^XXo. N«. 


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Copyright, 1901, 

By THOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO, 


To the children 

whose enjoyment of these stories 
first suggested 
that they might please 
a larger audience 
they are 

lovingly given back 

C. M, V. 




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CONTENTS 


CHAPTER page 

1 . Fritz and His Friends i 

II. A Babe in the Wood 20 

III. The Little Birds’ Mistake 32 

IV. Goldenhair and the Bird’s-Nest 39 

V. The Firefly and the Star 52 

VI. The Brook that Would not Wait 62 

VII. The Four Giants 67 

VIIL The Dog that Wore a White Ribbon 81 

IX. A Christmas Legend 96 










Two AND One 

I 

FRITZ AND HIS FRIENDS 

The two were a pair of children who counted 
just a dozen years between them, and the one 
was a grown up person who loved the sky and 
the woods and all the green out-of-door world 
almost as well as they did. The grown up per- 
son had stopped going to school, and the chil- 
dren had not yet begun, so there was a great 
deal in common between them, and they busied 
themselves in a pleasant old house and the fields 
that lay about it, and had good times together. 
There were stories everywhere. Sometimes 
they came out of books, sometimes from the 
trees and the long grass, and sometimes, in the 
edge of evening, before the lamps were lighted, 
they came stealing into the house with the 


I 


2 


Two and One 


shadows, and the grown up person caught them, 
and gave them to the children. 

That was the way one evening, that they 
came by the story of Frit^ and His Friends. 
But, to begin with, the younger of the children 
— they called her Bonnie — had been away all 
day. Ben had been dreadfully lonesome with- 
out her, though he lorded it over her sometimes 
when they played together, and always pre- 
tended that boys knew more than girls. 
Whether he really thought so is not certain, but 
one thing is sure; he knew that no boy alive 
could get along without his sister if he had one. 

When they asked the grown up person for a 
story that night she told them this. 

Once there were two children named Fritz 
and Gretchen, and they lived in the edge of a 
great old forest, where the trees grew tall and 
straight, and grand people came riding to hunt 
Sometimes, and everything was as it had been 
for hundreds and hundreds of years. 

Here the children played together all day 
long, with the sunbeams dancing in their faces 
and the wind tossing their yellow hair. They 
were so good and gentle that not a creature was 


Fritz and His Friends 


3 


afraid of them. The mother bird did not start 
from her nest when they came near, and the 
squirrels and rabbits did not hurry away. It 
seemed as if the very flowers ran in the grass 
to meet them, and Spring always came earliest 
in the places where they played. 

But one summer day the strangest and sad- 
dest thing happened to Fritz and Gretchen. In 
their games they wandered apart, and when 
sunset came the little sister was nowhere to be 
found. They hunted for her everywhere, 
around the little house in the edge of the forest, 
in all the places where she and Fritz had played 
at hide and seek together, and in path's where 
the two had never ventured to go. A storm 
came up while they searched, and put out the 
last red light in the west, and made the sky 
dark and dreadful, and though the father still 
pressed on, calling her name all night among 
the trees, the morning came and still there was 
no sign or sound of Gretchen. Weeks followed 
weeks and brought no word of her, and at last 
in a great despair, they said, “ We shall never 
see our darling any more. ” 

Then all the world was changed for poor lit- 
tle Fritz. He could find no pleasure in the 


4 


Two and One 


places where he used to play. There was no 
sweet smell in the grass any more, nor any 
music in the songs of the birds. If he saw the 
flowers at all he thought them stiff and faded, 
and the dancing of the waves in the little brook 
seemed to him silly and tiresome. So he turned 
away from his old haunts and his old friends, 
and day after day he sat in the cottage brood- 
ing over his grief, till his eyes grew dull and 
heavy and the bright brown color faded from 
his cheeks. 

And all this time his old playmates in the 
fields and woods were waiting and longing for 
him, and wondering why he did not come. 

They were talking about him one morning 
in the shadow of an old grey rock which had 
been a favorite place with him and Gretchen, 
and the questions they could never answer 
passed sadly from one to another. 

“Is he never coming any more?” said a 
mother bird who sat brooding on her nest in 
the grass. “ He thought my eggs were so pretty 
the day that he and Gretchen found them, but 
he has never looked at them again, and now my 
young ones are hatched and will fly away and 
be gone before he sees them. ” 


Fritz and His Friends 


5 


He does not even know that the chestnut 
blossoms have fallen, ” said a squirrel among 
the branches overhead. He ought to see how 
the nuts are growing and what a crop there 
will be this Fall. '' 

The berries are ripening too on the slope 
by the brook, ” said a rabbit. “ He always used 
to get the first for his mother, but he will miss 
them this year unless he comes soon. ’’ 

And the honey from the foxgloves ! ’’ 
** And the sweetness from the acorns I ’’ “ And 
the spice from the fern roots ! ” cried one and 
another. “ Oh, there were so many things he 
used to like ! Has he forgotten them all ? ” 

‘‘ Hm, '' croaked a raven who sat by himself 
on the tallest tree. “ He has forgotten every- 
thing but his trouble. I can tell you now that 
the nuts will have dropped and your nests will 
be empty before Fritz comes again. He cares 
for nothing but the little Gretchen, and day and 
night he mourns because they cannot find her. 

Poor Fritz!'’ said the mother bird. ''It 
is so hard for him to live without her. I cannot 
think why she strayed so far away from him. ” 
" It was the butterfly who would not stay to 
let her count the spots on his wings, ” said a 


6 


Two and One 


honey bee. I saw her chasing him and I 
know. 

No, no, ” said a swallow that flitted in 
among them. It was not the butterfly who 
led her so far away. It was the bluebells nod- 
ding to her among the trees. She wanted to 
gather an apronful to carry back to Fritz. 

Hm, ” croaked the raven again, “ you are 
wrong, both wrong. She would have come 
back to him for all of the butterfly and the 
flowers if it had not been for the storm which 
was coming on, and that made the air so still 
and heavy. The child thought she heard the 
strokes of her father’s ax, when it was another 
ax she heard, one whose sound was never 
borne so far before. It was following that, and 
hurrying to go to her father that made her lose 
her way. ” 

“ Oh, oh ! ” they all cried, and then, in a 
mournful chorus, “ If we could only know what 
happened then ! ” 

“ Why, that is easily told, ” said the raven. 

She had fallen fainting and lost at the foot 
of a tree, when a hunting party, riding hard 
before the rain, went by that way. They saw 
the child, and one of them lifted her to his 


Fritz and His Friends 


7 


saddle and carried her to his home. She was ill 
for days, and so bewildered that she could not 
tell where she came from nor how she lost her 
way, but she is well now, and the hunter’s lady 
loves her and cares for her as if she were her 
own child. ” 

“ If Fritz knew this ! Oh, if he only knew ! ’’ 
they all cried together, and the mother bird 
added, “ Will she ever come back to him 
again ? ” 

“ Ah, ” said the raven, giving a last croak as 
he spread his wings, “ I am not wise enough to 
tell you that. The world bides its time for all 
that comes, and so must Fritz. ” 

But he could bide with stouter heart if he 
knew that she was safe, ” murmured the mother 
bird. If he would only come back to us we 
would tell him. We would somehow make him 
know. ” 

There was a minute’s silence. Then a troop 
of sunbeams, who were playing with the brook 
that ran by the side of the rock, flashed in 
among them, and in a bright sign language that 
the others understood said quickly. 

If he will not come to us we will go to 
him. We sunbeams can do it. We will find 


8 


Two and One 


him and show him that all the world is beauti- 
ful as ever. We will put glad thoughts into his 
heart, and then he cannot help knowing that 
somewhere, somehow, all is well with Gretchen 
still. 

Then there was such a singing and dancing 
together of all these friends of Fritz as the 
grey old rock had never known before. “ Go, 
go ! they cried in a burst of joy, “ But come 
and bring us word of all that happens before 
the sun goes down. ” 

So the sunbeams went, but when the sunset 
came that afternoon it was a sad and tired com- 
pany that stole in among the friends by the 
rock. 

We could not show him anything, they 
said, “ We have failed in all we tried to do. 
We found him sitting at the cottage door, with 
a chain of withered flowers — the last that Gret- 
chen wove — in his lap, and we danced and 
danced before his face, but he did not see us. 
All day we have circled about him chasing away 
the shadows and weaving bright shapes, but he 
would not lift his eyes to see the shining. We 
could show him nothing, and at last we came 
away. ” 


Fritz and His Friends 


9 


For a minute no one spoke, and then it was 
the raven who said, “ I could have told you that 
the sunbeams would not help him. They have 
no voice, and what can they do for people who 
hang their heads and go around without see- 
ing?’’ 

Then in an instant a breeze sprang up, and 
in a quick, glad tone called out, “ Then I will 
take the word to Fritz. I have a voice, and I 
will tell him so he cannot fail to hear, that all 
is well with Gretchen. It is I who should have 
taken the message at first, but I will do it still. 
In the morning I will go. ” 

Then there was gladness again among the 
friends at the rock. “ Go, go ! ” they cried, 
“ But come back at sunset to-morrow and tell 
us all that happens. ” 

So the breeze went his way with his message 
of love to Fritz, but when another sunset came 
it was a story of failure that he too brought 
back to the little company. 

“ It was of no use, ” he whispered, as he 
rustled in among them. It was with me as 
with the sunbeams ; I could not make him un- 
derstand. I found him lying under the roof-tree 
by the cottage, looking so sad and hollow-eycd 


lO 


Two and One 


that you would hardly know him, and in my 
longing to help him I rushed upon him and 
called with all my might. I bade him be glad. 
I told him his sister was safe, but I had only 
just begun the story when he pressed his hands 
upon his ears and cried, ‘ Oh Gretchen, Gret- 
chen, we shall never fly our kites together any 
more ! ^ And then he sobbed so loud he could 
not hear me, and stole away into the cottage to 
weep with his mother. ” 

The breeze gave a little sob herself as she 
ended the story, and nobody spoke a word till 
the raven said crossly, 

“ You talked too loud. You should not have 
begun in that way. It is always a still small 
voice that people understand. 

With that a blithe little chirping was heard 
suddenly in the grass. 

“ Then I am the one to tell him, ” said the 
cricket cheerily. “ Oh, why didn’t we think of 
it before? My voice is always low and can 
never make anyone sad. I will steal into the 
cottage to-night, where I am always welcome, 
and sit on the hearth and sing till he knows all 
the happy truth. I will tell him Gretchen is 
safe, and I will call him back to the woods. ” 


Fritz and His Friends ii 

Then all the little company was full of joy 
again. Go, go ! ” they cried, “ But come back 
in the morning and tell us all that happens. 

So the cricket went, but when the morning 
came it was the old, mournful story that he 
told to the friends at the rock. 

“ I did my best, my very best, ’’ he said 
faintly, “ but I too have failed. I sat on the 
hearth in the evening, when all was still and 
quiet, after the spinning was done, and sang my 
song so low and cheerily that I thought they 
would all understand. Fritz lifted his head 
from his mother's lap to listen, and I sang it 
over and over, ^ Gretchen is safe, Gretchen is 
safe, ' till it seemed to me that every chink in 
the walls was crammed with the good news. 
But he only said at last with a great sigh, ‘ Why 
will they sing the same old song when every- 
thing is changed ? ' And then he dropped his 
head again, and his mother led him sadly away 
to bed. " 

A silence that was longer than ever before 
fell on the company that heard, and as usual it 
was the raven who found his voice first. 

'' It is hard to put a new meaning into an 
old song, " he croaked, “ The cricket has only 


12 


Two and One 


one note. How could the boy know that the 
sense was all new ? '' 

Then once again a clear new voice broke in 
upon the stillness, and now it was a robin who 
spoke. 

“ Let me go,'’ he cried, send me. My song 
is new every day, and people are glad when 
they hear it. They call me brother everywhere, 
and understand my language. I will wake 
Fritz in the morning with a carol he has never 
heard before, and the meaning shall be so clear 
he cannot fail to catch it. He will know at last, 
he will surely know when I tell him, that all is 
well with Gretchen ! ” 

Then all these simple little friends at the rock 
were filled with hope again. Go, go ! ” they 
cried, “ But come back in the morning early 
and tell us all that happens.” 

So the robin flew away, and all that day he 
practiced in the woods the brave new song that 
he would sing to Fritz. He filled it so full of 
melody and glee that his heart swelled with the 
joy of it, and the red on his breast deepened to 
a crimson flame. 

“ We have found the way at last, ” said the 
friends to each other as they caught the strains. 


Fritz and His Friends 13 

'' It is the robin who will tell him every- 
thing.” 

But alas and alas, when the robin came back 
to the rock it was the saddest tale of all that he 
had to tell. 

I too have failed, ” he said in a sobbing 
voice, as they gathered round to hear. '' Oh 
Friends, we sihall never make Fritz understand. 
I flew to the window this morning, when the 
light was breaking in the sky, and sang the 
gladdest, merriest song that ever robin sang, 
a song all full of Gretchen and our love. He 
listened for a little, with his eyes open wide, and 
then, all at once, he was leaning from the win- 
dow with a look that would break your hearts. 
‘ Oh robin, robin, ' he cried, ‘ how can you sing 
like that when she is gone? You do not care 
for my trouble. It is nothing to you that I have 
lost her. You sing more joyfully than ever. 
You sing right on. Oh robin, I cannot bear it. 
Leave me alone. ^ ” 

It seemed as though the robin’s own heart 
was breaking as he ended, “ So I left him 
alone. ” And then a long, long silence fell 
among the trees. 

It was a wood thrush who broke it at last, 


14 Two and One 

saying with a quivering throat, How strange 
it is that they would have us stop our singing 
when their trouble comes! How strange that 
they should think we do not care, when we are 
trying so hard to make them happy again ! It 
must be because their houses shut out the sky 
that they make such dreadful mistakes. They 
forget that God is over all and He is good. 
Poor Fritz, we cannot help him after all. ” 

“ No, ” said the raven in a husky voice. 
You cannot help him after all. ” 

They would have stolen away in a minute 
more, that little company beside the rock, but 
all at once — no one could tell how she came — 
the brightest, dearest, little creature had glided 
in among them. She had a face like a child, 
the sweetest child that ever played in the forest, 
and her dress was woven of all the colors in the 
flowers. She was no taller than the robin, and 
her voice was full of music like his when he 
sang at his best, but low and soft; and she 
moved so lightly, as she stepped, that one could 
only think of sunbeams or of breezes in the 
grass. 

“ Dear little people, ” she said, you who 
have tried so hard to help your friend, you shall 


Fritz and His Friends 15 

do it yet, for I am come to be your messenger. 
I am a fairy and my work is doing errands of 
love. There are ways and ways, but this is the 
way I will take for Fritz. I will go to his side 
while he sleeps to-night, and weave him a 
dream all full of the things you have tried to 
tell him. In his dream he shall come to the 
woods and see the places where he used to play 
and you who love him so much. Gretchen, her- 
self, shall flit through his dream, and he shall 
begin to know that his sister is safe and the 
time for grieving is past. ’’ 

She was slipping away, but they held her 
with their joy and thanks. “ You are so kind, 
so kind ! ” they called all together. But oh, 
dear beautiful Fairy, please come again to-mor- 
row and tell us all that happens. ” 

She looked back with a merry smile. It is 
Fritz himself who shall come to you to-mor- 
row, ’’ she said, and then, all at once, she was 
gone. 

That night, while Fritz lay in bed, with the 
stars peeping at him through the window, he 
had a wonderful dream. He thought he was 
in the woods again, with the trees grander and 
taller than he had ever seen them before, and 


1 6 Two and One 

the flowers more bright and beautiful. All the 
creatures he had loved came running to meet 
him, and played around him and told him they 
were glad he had come. He seemed to be as 
fearless and as light of foot as they, and he 
wandered where he pleased in the forest, till at 
last, in a wide sunshiny space, a garden full of 
flowers, he saw Gretchen herself, all safe and 
well. There were roses in her hands, and she 
was walking beside a lady who looked down at 
her with a loving face and smiled as she talked. 

In the morning he told his dream to his 
mother, and she said solemnly, “ Your sister 
is in Heaven. That indeed was what Fritz 
thought in his heart, but the dream had filled 
him with a longing for the woods again, and, 
though he brought a sorrowful face, he went 
back to the places that he used to love. 

By chance he sat on the old grey rock, and 
never since the moss grew on its sides had there 
been such joy as now around it. The rabbit 
nibbled the blades of grass at his feet and squir- 
rels dropped acorns into his lap. The mother 
bird flew from her nest to show him her young, 
and butterflies hung within reach of his hand 
to show him their colors. 


Fritz and His Friends 


17 


In the midst of it all, as he sat there, half 
dreaming, half seeing, a hunting party, on their 
way through the woods, rode past him, and one 
of the troop, the last of them all, was a lady like 
the lady of his dream. At the sight of her a 
strange wild hope leaped up in the heart of 
Fritz. He sprang to his feet, and stretching 
out his arms called to her with a cry that made 
her turn. 

She saw the pleading look in his great blue 
eyes, and in a moment she had reined in her 
horse and was stopping to speak to him. 

What is it, my child? ” she said very gently. 

Is there anything you want that I can give 
you?^’ 

It is my sister I want, ” cried the boy with 
the tears streaming down his face. I want 
my own dear Gretchen. 

A light came into the lady's eyes, and 
in an instant she was on the ground beside 
him. 

‘‘ Are you Fritz? " she said Are you really 
that Fritz for whom my little Gretchen has 
been longing all these days? Oh, if I could 
only keep her for my own ! But if she is truly 
your sister you shall have her again. I will 


1 8 Two and One 

bring her back to you. You must tell me all 
about it and show me your home. ” 

He told her everything, and smiling through 
her tears she kissed him, and told him to wait 
a little, just a little, longer, and Gretchen should 
come again. Then she rode on, and now, in a 
twinkling, all the world was changed again to 
Fritz. 

“ Gretchen is safe, Gretchen is safe ! '' He 
heard the birds singing it in all the trees, and 
the insects chirping it in the grass at his feet. 
The breezes whispered it plainly as they passed, 
and the very sunbeams seemed to dance to the 
words. He threw back his head and listened 
like one who had just waked out of a dream. 

“ Have they been saying it all the time, I 
wonder ? ” he cried. Oh, how deaf I have 
been ! ” And then he ran home to his mother 
to tell her the wonderful news. 

So Gretchen came back to Fritz, and now 
once more they played together as they used to 
in the good old days. They loved each other 
all the better for the sorrow there had been, and 
all the creatures of the fields and woods they 
called their friends. 


Fritz and His Friends 


9 


Bonnie drew a long breath when the story 
was finished. “ Fm so glad Fritz knew at 
last,” she said. “ It almost made me cry when 
they couldn’t make him understand.” 

Ben had been looking rather anxious himself, 
but he said boldly that he knew it would come 
out right all the time, and then he turned a 
somersault to express his approval of the story. 


II 

A BABE IN THE WOOD 

The story of Fritz and his friends turned out 
to be a great favorite with the children. Bon- 
nie called for it every night for a week, and she 
spent so much time during the day listening to 
what all the out-of-door creatures were saying 
that Ben complained she did not listen to him. 
It was he who grew tired of Fritz first. Per- 
haps there was too much gentleness in the story 
to suit him. He hinted something of that sort, 
and one night, when Bonnie had asked for it 
again, he spoke up briskly and said that for his 
part he would like to have the story of the 
Babes in the Wood. 

Now this was a story that Bonnie could not 
bear, and no more could the grown up person. 
She always said she did not believe there was 
any truth in it — unless it might be in the part 
about the robins. But to satisfy Ben, and to 
save the feelings of Bonnie, she told them that 


20 


A Babe in the Wood 


21 


she knew a brand new story, not about two 
babies, but about one who was lost in the woods, 
a really true story, and she would tell it right 
away if they wanted to hear it. This suited 
them, of course, and here is the story. 

It happened in our own country long ago, in 
those old days when only a few white people 
lived here, and everything was rough and new. 
Strong men were at work among the hills, cut- 
ting down the trees and planting corn in the 
new fields, and towns were springing up along 
the streams, but still there were many miles of 
forest where Indians still hunted and bears and 
wolves had their dens. 

In one of these forests a fine clearing had 
been made by a company of men and women 
who knew how to work together, and who met 
all the hard things that came to them without 
being afraid. In the summer the men built the 
houses and raised the crops, and in the winter 
were busy with their axes and guns, while the 
women took care of the houses and spun cloth 
for the clothes, and the children helped in a 
thousand ways, or went to school in the 
little log school-house, and knew that before 


22 


Two and One 


everything else they must learn their les- 
sons. 

They were busy and brave and happy to- 
gether, the people in this new clearing, and for 
the most part things went well with them. But 
one summer a young farmer, who had been one 
of the stoutest workers of them all, fell sick 
with a fever. There was no doctor there, and 
though the neighbors did all they could for 
him, and his young wife nursed him with the 
tenderest care, days lengthened into weeks and 
he grew no better. 

At last his heart began to fail. He thought 
he should never get well, and he longed to see 
his brother, who lived more than fifty miles 
away, but who would come to him if he knew 
his need. 

And now here was the trouble. There were 
no steam cars or even stage coaches in that part 
of the country, and there was not a man in the 
place who could leave his work in harvest time 
to go. Who was there that could take that long 
journey? 

The sick man thought and thought, but he 
could see no way. It was his wife who saw 


A Babe in the Wood 


23 

first what must be done. She saw that she her- 
self was the one to go. 

One day, when she was sitting beside his bed 
with the baby in her arms, she said suddenly, 
“ There is no one else, John; you must let me 
go and tell your brother. ” 

He started, and as he looked at her the tears 
came into his eyes. Then he shook his head. 

No, no, ” he said, “ that would never do. 
It is too long and hard a journey for you. Be- 
sides, have you forgotten the baby ? You could 
not leave him behind. ” 

The lady smiled at this, and the baby opened 
his eyes and smiled too. 

I will take him with me, she said. “ You 
know our horse is so steady that I often ride 
with the baby in my arms. And the journey is 
not too hard for me. There is not a full day's 
ride between the clearings I shall pass, and there 
are plenty of people who will give me shelter 
over night. The path is plain and I am not 
afraid to take it. It is only leaving you that I 
mind; but the neighbors will do everything 
while I am gone, and you will want for nothing. 
You must let me go. " 


24 


Two and One 


For a long time the sick man would not lis- 
ten to the plan. He thought of all the dangers 
of the way; of prowling Indians, and of bears 
that had their dens in shaggy places of the 
woods, but to all that he could say she answered 
stoutly, “ I am not afraid. God will take care 
of me. It is the only way, and you must let me 

go- " 

So at last he stopped saying No, and one 
autumn morning, when the light was just steal- 
ing in at the windows of their home, the lady 
saddled the old horse, filled the saddle bags with 
things they would need on the journey, wrapped 
the baby in her soft warm cloak, and was ready. 
For a moment she bent over the bed and laid 
the child’s soft face against his father’s cheek, 
and whispered cheerily, “ Keep a good heart 
and don’t worry about us. You will see us 
home again, safe and sound, in a little while.” 
Then she kissed him and was gone. 

That day the horse trotted down the forest 
path as briskly as if he knew his rider’s errand 
and cared for nothing but to bring her swiftly 
on her way. The baby cooed in the sunshine, 
and the fresh air and the sweet smells in the 


A Babe in the Wood 


25 


forest filled the lady with such hope and cour- 
age that she sang as she rode. Before night 
she reached a clearing, and found the friendly 
shelter she was sure would be ready for her. 
In the morning she rode on again, and another 
day came happily to an end. 

But the third day, the last one of all, did not 
go so well. The air was chilly, and the sun 
did not shine so brightly as before. The baby 
had grown tired of riding and nestled uneasily 
in his mother’s arms. The horse seemed tired 
too and the miles did not slip away so fast as at 
first. The lady had been sure that she could 
reach the village where the brother lived before 
sunset, but when shadows were darkening all 
the forest floor, and night-birds were calling 
among the trees, she still had not reached it. 

She patted her horse’s neck and urged him on 
with coaxing words. ‘‘ A little farther, just a 
little, and we will rest, ” she said. But the 
horse had forgotten his old brisk pace. His 
feet seemed heavy, and his head drooped, while 
the shadows grew deeper and longer. 

All at once he stumbled. The lady tightened 
the rein, but he stumbled again. It was not bke 


26 


Two and One 


her sure-footed horse to do that, and when it 
happened a third time she knew there must be 
something wrong. 

The baby was asleep, and getting down from 
the saddle, she laid him on a bed of leaves at 
the foot of a tree. Then she lifted her horse’s 
feet and looked at them carefully to find out, if 
she could, what was the matter. 

Ah, it was a little nut that had lodged itself 
under a loosened shoe. She took it out with 
her pocket knife, then, putting down the horse’s 
foot, turned to take up the baby. 

At that instant something she could never 
have dreamed of happened. Perhaps some for- 
est bird, flying past in the darkness, brushed the 
horse with her wing and frightened him, or 
perhaps some strange wild longing for freedom 
came into his heart. All the lady knew was 
that, while the bridle hung loose on his neck, 
he suddenly lifted his head, gave one snort, and 
without waiting for her to mount him, started 
off alone. 

For a moment she forgot the baby. She for- 
got everything except that her horse was leav- 
ing her, and shouting “ Whoa, Whoa! ” at the 
top of her voice, ran after him with all her 


A Babe in the Wood 27 

might. There was a hot chase, in and out 
among the trees, for a few minutes, then, all 
at once, as if his sober senses had come back, 
the horse stood still. The lady came panting 
up to his side, caught the bridle rein, and turned 
to go back to the baby. 

But where was the baby, and where was the 
path ? It flashed upon her that in those dread- 
ful moments she had lost sight of them both. 
But surely she could find them; she could go 
straight to her child ! She flew from one heap 
of leaves to another, almost dragging the horse 
after her as she went, but the child was not to 
be found. There were leaves, leaves every- 
where, and the trees all looked alike in the dark- 
ness which seemed to have grown suddenly 
dense. She wrung her hands, and with a terror 
which made her voice sound dreadful in the 
stillness, called all the sweet names the child 
had ever known, but there was no sound of 
answer. 

Then a new thought came to her, and all at 
once she stood as still as one of the trees. The 
baby had been asleep when she laid him down. 
He was sleeping still; but he would wake by 
and by; he would cry when he found himself 


28 


Two and One 


alone in the darkness. Then, following the 
sound of his voice she would find him again. 

But what if, in her wild running after the 
horse, and her wilder searching for the baby, 
she had gone out of reach of his voice? Her 
heart almost stopped beating as the fear came, 
but she drove it away. Not hear the cry of her 
child? She could hear it, she would hear it, 
however far away. Not a leaf should fall in 
that forest but she would hear it. 

That was a brave lady. With a steady hand 
on her horse’s bridle she stood there in the dark- 
ness and waited. The night wore on, hour after 
hour, and still she waited. The stars looked 
down at her from the cloudy sky, and the night 
winds blew upon her as she stood, but she 
scarcely saw or felt them. She only wondered 
when she should look into the eyes of her baby 
again and feel his soft hands on her face. An 
owl stared at her through the branches of a 
tree, calling “Who? Who?” and now and 
then, in the distance, she heard sounds that 
made her think of the footsteps of Indians and 
the low growling of beasts. But through it 
all she stood there, never moving from her 
place, only listening for that little cry, and pray- 


A Babe in the Wood 


29 


ing God, who had guided the shepherds to the 
baby in the manger, to bring her to the child 
among the leaves. 

Hark ! There was a rustling sound. Some- 
thing stirred not far away. There was a low 
cry, and then another cry — a great sob of joy 
— as the mother started from her place at last, 
and ran to where her baby lay, all safe and 
warm, and stretching out his little hands for 
her. 

They had not been far apart. If she had only 
known it he had been near her all the time. 
And now he was in her arms again, held close 
to her heart. 

She had found the path again too, and the 
horse, — who must have been ashamed of all the 
grief he had caused her — never lagged or stum- 
bled again till he had brought her to the home 
she was seeking, which was straight ahead of 
them now, and only a few miles away. Oh, 
how the joy and wonder must have run over 
in that house when they took her in, and how 
sweet her rest must have been, when she fell 
asleep that night! 

That was the end of her troubles. When she 
took the forest path again the brother she had 


30 


Two and One 


come so far to find was with her, and together 
they rode safely all the way, back to the sick 
man, who welcomed them with a gladness no 
words could tell. 

And after all he did not go away and leave 
them, for the fever turned, and a new hope and 
strength began for him with that very day. 

There were tears among the neighbors, 
women and men too, when they heard the story, 
how the baby had been lost, and the mother 
had waited for his waking all alone in the for- 
est. But the baby did not cry. He smiled 
through it all. He had never slept more sweetly 
in his cradle than among the leaves that night. 


Bonnie had crept closer and closer to the 
grown up person during the story. Did you 
say that was true, every bit true?’’ she asked 
earnestly when it was ended. 

'' Yes, it is all true, ” said the grown up per- 
son. My grandfather told me the story when 
I was a little girl like you, and the brave lady 
herself told it to him. She was his own aunt. ” 
Oh-h ! ” said Bonnie. And then she turned 


A Babe in the Wood 


31 


to Ben. “ Ben, ” she said, “ I like it a lot better 
than that other story about the Babes in the 
Wood. ” 

It’s all right, ” said Ben, and then he added 
in rather an injured tone, ‘‘ But I thought there 
was going to be a bear in it when she began. ” 
“ Ben, ” cried Bonnie jumping up and star- 
ing at him with a look of horror, “ did you 
want a bear to eat up that baby ? ” 

“ No, of course not,” said Ben in a tone of 
great disgust. “ But there might have been a 
bear in it for all that. If one of those fellows 
that was growling off there had heard the baby 
cry, you know, and had rushed at him when he 
waked up, and then — and then — all of a sudden, 
you know, just as he was going to grab the 
baby, the lady had come up and found a gun 
lying there that somebody had lost, you know, 
and she had picked up that gun and popped the 
bear right over — ” The greatness of the situ- 
ation that might have been fairly took Ben’s 
breath away. “ Bonnie,” he ended impres- 
sively, '' if that had been it I think it would be 
the best story I ever heard in my life. ” 


Ill 

THE LITTLE BIRDS" MISTAKE 

This was an out of door story, and was told 
one day when they were all in the orchard, curl- 
ing dandelion stems and hunting for four- 
leaved clover. 

Most likely it would not have been told at 
all had it not been for the men who were work- 
ing in the field across the fence. They were 
talking in a very gloomy way about the need of 
rain, and saying that the crops would all dry 
up, and everything be spoiled if it did not come 
soon. 

This troubled the children very much, espe- 
cially Bonnie, and she decided to spend all the 
time she could in watering the fields about the 
house. It would be so dreadful if all the grass 
and flowers should die. 

The grown up person did not say anything at 
first, but after a while, when the children asked 
her for a story, she told them this. 

32 


The Little Birds* Mistake 


33 


Once there were four little birds whose home 
was a nest low down in the grass and clover. 
They were very young indeed, and had never 
seen Anything of the great round world except 
the fringe of grass around their nest and the 
blue sky overhead, so they knew nothing of its 
sights and wonders except what was told them 
by the old birds and the insects who sometimes 
stopped to talk with them as they flitted by. 

One night, when the father bird was twitter- 
ing of all he had seen during the day, there 
was a note of sadness in his voice. He said the 
fields were dry and thirsty, and the flowers by 
the roadside were faint for lack of rain. 

'' What is the rain ? asked the little ones, 
for in all the ten days of their lives they had 
known nothing but the bright warm sun- 
shine. 

The old birds thought for a moment before 
they answered. Then they said, ‘‘ It is like the 
dew, only it does not come in that still soft 
way. It falls from the clouds, in a thousand, 
thousand little streams all rushing down to- 
gether. ** 

How beautiful the rain must be ! twittered 
the little birds. “ When will it come ? ** 


34 


Two and One 


Oh, said the father bird, that is for the 
One who sends it to say. He sets the time.” 

“ Who sends it, and where is He ? ” asked 
the little birds. 

‘‘ The One who sends the sunshine is the 
One who sends the rain, ” replied the father. 

We have never seen Him, though we have 
been high up among the clouds and far into 
the woods, but we have felt that He was near 
us all the time. We have always been sure of 
that. ” 

Then the little birds could not ask any more 
questions, for with this the father spread his 
wings, and soaring up, sang such a happy song 
that they could only listen and be still. 

After that came a long sultry week, and the 
grass around the nest began to wither. Day by 
day the little birds watched its fading color, 
and felt the hot breath of the wind. Then, 
looking up, they wished the rain would come, 
but still the sun shone brightly and the clouds 
rolled high and white across the sky. 

One day something happened while the old 
birds were away, something which seemed to 
the young ones very strange and wonderful. A 
little maid passed by their nest, while they were 


The Little Birds* Mistake 


35 


talking sadly of the rain that would not come. 
She had been watering the flowers in her gar- 
den, and looking across the wall had seen a 
bunch of tall red lilies nodding in the grass out- 
side. They seemed to nod at her, so, with the 
watering pot in her hand, she went to gather 
them, bending the grass and daisies with her 
soft white dress, and scattering a little shower 
of drops as she tripped along. 

The young birds saw her, and felt the cool, 
fresh spray. “ The rain has come at last, and 
the rain giver himself is walking in our 
meadow ! *’ they said to each other with a flut- 
ter of joy. 

All at once the little maid saw them and bent 
above their nest with a smile. She did not 
touch the birds, she did not even speak, for fear 
of frightening them, but she stood there look- 
ing down, with eyes so full of love that it 
seemed as if she would draw them all into her 
very heart. Then she turned and was gone 
again, like the clouds that sailed over the sky. 

An hour later, when the old birds came home, 
the young ones almost flew from the nest to 
meet them, they were so full of joy. 

“ We have seen the One that sends the 


36 


Two and One 


rain ! ” they cried. “ Oh, if you had only been 
here too ! ” 

The old birds paused above them with quiver- 
ing wings. They had known wonderful things 
to happen in the world, but this was more won- 
derful than any. “ Oh happy, happy children ! ” 
was all they could say. 

But when they knew all, when they had 
heard about the little shower, and how it fell 
from something which the gentle stranger car- 
ried in her hand, they understood everything, 
and knew that their children had made a mis- 
take. 

“ Oh, foolish little ones, they said, that 
was not the rain giver whom you saw. It was 
only one of His other children, almost as young 
and helpless as you. And that is not the way 
He sends the rain. There is no measure with 
Him. He fills the clouds with water and they 
pour it freely over all the fields. We must wait 
a little longer. Some day it will surely come. 

There was silence for a minute. Then the- 
young birds said in a sorrowful voice, He 
waits so long! What if He should forget to 
send the rain at all ? 

Oh, foolish little ones, '' the father said 


The Little Birds* Mistake 


37 


again, '' He made the world, and He has kept 
it fresh and fair through all the years. Why 
should we fear to wait His time? ” 

The young birds hung their heads, for they 
knew they had made a greater mistake now 
than they made at first. 

'' We will wait, *' they murmured softly, and 
the old birds answered, “ Yes, and we will sing 
while we wait, for we know the world is His 
and He is good. ” 

That night, while the mother bird sat brood- 
ing on her nest, the rain came, and in the cool 
sweet morning, when the little ones awoke, 
through the last shining shower they saw a rain- 
bow in the sky. Then, in the beauty and the 
gladness of it all, they spread their wings, and 
fluttering from the grass and clover, joined in 
the song that all the world was singing, a song 
of trust and joy. 


Bonnie had been listening to this story with 
her eyes full of a grave sweet wonder. When 
it was ended she said wistfully: 

'' I wonder if those little birds ever did see 
the One that sends the rain. ” 


38 


Two and One 


“ Oh Bonnie, ’’ cried Ben, I shouldn't think 
you knew any more about God than they did 
to ask such a question ! But never mind, " he 
added more gently, as he saw her lips quiver. 
“ When you're a little older you'll know all 
about Him. " 


/ 


IV 


GOLDENHAIR AND THE BIRdVnEST 

A FEW days later, when Bonnie asked for 
another bird story, Ben remarked that he did 
not think so very much of the last one. The 
birds did nothing but talk. 

The grown up person saw the force of this 
criticism at once, and admitted promptly that 
it was a poor story indeed when birds, or peo- 
ple either, did nothing but talk. And then she 
remembered that she knew a story about some 
birds who did something, something very odd. 
“ And a little girl like Bonnie was all mixed up 
with it, ” she added. 

This interested Bonnie of course, and Ben 
thought it might do, so she began the story 
at once. 

The queerest thing that ever you heard of 
happened one day to a little girl named Golden- 
hair. While she lay asleep one summer after- 
noon, on a mossy bank in the woods, a pair of 


39 


40 


Two and One 


tiny birds wove a lock of her long bright hair 
into the nest they were building. 

It was such pretty hair, you see, and she had 
lain down, without knowing it, close to the 
place where they were building their nest. Of 
course they saw that one of her curls would be 
the nicest thing in the world to bind together 
the sticks and moss and all the other things they 
had brought, and she lay so still, with such a 
smile on her face, that they really thought she 
was willing. 

The trouble came when she woke up, and 
the waking did not come till the nest was fin- 
ished, and the birds, fluttering around it, were 
singing at the top of their voices, with all their 
friends and neighbors joining in to help. It 
was the song that made Goldenhair open her 
eyes. She rubbed them sleepily for a minute 
and looked around her wondering. She saw 
that the sun was dropping down on the other 
side of the woods and the shadows of the trees 
had grown long. Then she started up and said 
to herself that she must run home as fast as she 
could. 

At that moment she felt a pulling at her 
hair, and heard a small shrill voice piping. 


Goldenhair and the Bird’s-Nest 41 

Don’t ! Don’t ! You’ll tear our nest all to 
pieces. ” 

Now it may be because Goldenhair had been 
dreaming she was a bird herself that she under- 
stood so quickly what the voice said. Indeed 
she was not at all surprised to find that it came 
from a little yellow-throated fellow no bigger 
than a wren, who was standing on the ground 
by her side. His round bright eyes were fixed 
upon her with a look of distress, and his feathers 
were all ruffled up, while his tail was jerking in 
the strangest manner. 

The next instant he looked down at his feet, 
and Goldenhair saw that he was standing on 
the edge of a little nest into which some of her 
own shining hair was woven fast. 

For a minute she was so astonished that she 
could hardly believe her eyes. She fell back 
on the moss and looked from the bird to the 
nest, and from the nest to the bird again, with- 
out speaking. 

Well,” she said at last, this is the queer- 
est thing I ever saw. I’m sure I don’t want to 
spoil your nest, but I must say I think it was 
very bold of you to braid my hair into it. ” 

“ It was so pretty and soft, ” pleaded the 


4 ^ 


Two and One 


bird. And another, who was standing on the 
farther side of the nest, added, “ Yes, it was 
softer even than the moss and thistledown. It 
was just what we needed to make our nest per- 
fect. ” 

And you spread it out among the things 
we had brought to build with, ” said the first 
speaker. “ We really thought you meant to 
give us some of it. ” 

Goldenhair began to laugh, it was all so 
droll. “ But you must have known that I 
should soon wake up, and that I should want to 
get my hair free from your nest then,” she 
said. 

“ You slept so long, ” replied the bird, “ that 
we thought you would keep right on sleeping, 
like the dormice and the woodchucks in win- 
ter. ” 

At this Goldenhair laughed more than ever. 

“We don’t do that way, we children, ” she 
said. And then she gave a gentle pull at her 
curls, as if to see how hard a twitch it would 
take to set them free. 

“ Oh please, please don’t ! ” cried both the 
birds in that tone of distress which had startled 
Goldenhair at first. “ If you do that you will 


Goldenhair and the Bird’s-Nest 43 

spoil everything. There is not another nest in 
the world like ours, and we have worked so 
hard to make it. Oh, you have no idea how 
much trouble it is to find all the things for a 
nest and weave them in together. 

Goldenhair began to feel very sober indeed. 

But what ever shall I do ? ” she asked. 

The bird who had spoken first turned his 
head slowly from side to side. “ Really, I don’t 
know,” he said, politely, “ unless you will 
kindly consent to stay here until we have laid 
our eggs and reared our young. After that we 
would gladly give you the nest for your own. ” 

At this astonishing proposal Goldenhair 
opened her blue eyes wide and stared very hard 
at the bird. 

“ Why, that would take all summer, ” she 
cried. “ I should starve if I staid here. ” 

Upon this a rabbit who was nibbling at a 
vine near by spoke up. 

“ You would find this root very good eating; 
there is plenty of it close at hand.” 

“And there is nothing better than young 
acorns; there will soon be a good supply of 
them, ” said a squirrel from a tree. 

“ And if you are quick enough you could 


44 


Two and One 


catch a great many flies, ” said a hummingbird 
flitting by. 

“ Oh dear, ’’ cried Goldenhair, making a wry 
face, I could never think of eating flies. And 
as for roots and acorns they wouldn’t satisfy 
me at all. I like to eat flag root on Sunday, in 
meeting-time, for it keeps me from going to 
sleep, but I don’t care much for it any other 
time, and I never did like acorns very well. ” 
Then a raven who was sitting on the tree 
above her spoke. 

My mate and I might look around to see 
if we could find you some bread and meat. 
They say a pair of our ancestors once fed a 
great preacher in that way, when he was hiding 
out in the woods. I don’t suppose it would 
take as much for you as it did for him. ” 

“ Oh, I don’t know about that, ” said Golden- 
hair, who was beginning to feel dreadfully 
hungry. “ I’m sure I could eat as much as 
anybody if I had it now. ” 

It occurred to her that even if the raven 
should find some bread and meat he might take 
a fancy to eat it himself, but she thought it 
would not be polite to suggest this, so she only 
added with another sigh, And anyway you 


Goldenhair and the Bird*s-Nest 45 

couldn't bring me milk to drink. You haven’t 
any way to carry it, and I always have milk for 
my supper. ” 

'' ni tell you what ! ” she cried suddenly to 
the birds who owned the nest, lifting her head 
and then dropping it again as she felt the pull- 
ing at her curls, If you’ll let me carry the nest 
home in my hair. I’ll get my mother to cut it 
off with her scissors, and then I will bring it 
back to you. ” 

“ Oh no, ” cried both the birds in great dis- 
tress, that would not do at all. You have a 
brother, and he would want to keep it. ” 

Goldenhair was beginning to say that her 
brother would not think of such a thing, and 
even if he did she would not let him do it, but 
the birds interrupted. 

And even if you tried to bring it back you 
might not find the place. The woods are wide, 
and there are many corners in it that look like 
this.” 

“ Oh dear me, ” said Goldenhair beginning 
to cry, What in the world shall I do ? I 
can’t bear to hurt your nest, but I’m sure I 
can’t stay here. It would frighten my mother 
dreadfully if I shouldn’t come home. ” 


46 


Two and One 


At the mention of her mother the little birds 
looked from one to another and had not a word 
to say. They made a pitiful chirping together 
and Golderihair cried the harder. 

“ If there was only some way to cut off my 
hair I would gladly give you all you want, ” 
she said. You haven’t taken so very much, 
and I never did care about my curls. They are 
always in the way. ” 

All at once there was a funny little squeak- 
ing in the grass, and a field mouse, not much 
bigger than a bumble bee, came running for- 
ward in great excitement, his ears pricked up 
and his black eyes twinkling like fireflies;. 

I can tell you how to do it ! I can tell you 
how to do it ! ” he jerked out. “ You must let 
me gnaw it off. I can do it as easy ! ” And 
he opened his mouth wide as he said it, and 
showed two shining rows of sharp white 
teeth. 

‘‘ Oh, that is the way, that is the way of 
course ! ” cried the birds, and they began to 
twitter in great delight. 

Well, perhaps it is, ” said Goldenhair, but 
she spoke more slowly, for she had never heard 
of any one having her hair cut in that way, and 


Goldenhair and the Bird's-Nest 47 

she could not help feeling a little nervous as 
she thought of those sharp white teeth. 

The mouse noticed her anxious look and said 
quickly, Oh, you needn’t be afraid that I can’t 
do it. I’ve just been gnawing some of the 
wheat in the field out there, and it will be 
nothing to cut off a lock of your hair. ” 

Now the wheat belonged to Goldenhair’s 
father and she felt very much like telling the 
mouse that it was naughty of him to nibble it, 
but she reflected in time that it could not have 
taken much to satisfy so tiny a creature, and 
that she ought not to scold him when he was 
about to do her a favor. 

“ Well, you may try, ” she said, “ but please 
keep close to the nest, and be as quick about 
it as you can, for it is really very hard to lie 
with your head in one place so long. ” 

‘‘Oh, I will have it off in a jiffy,” squeaked 
the mouse, and he darted across Goldenhair’s 
dress and fell to gnawing with all his might. 

Goldenhair watched him out of the corner of 
her eye, and though he somtimes pulled a little, 
she could see that he was doing his best. She 
thought, however, that the operation was rather 
disagreeable, and the birds, who seemed to 


48 


Two and One 


know how she felt, did all they could to amuse 
her. 

They sang the merriest roundelay they knew, 
with their friends and neighbors joining in 
again to help, and the tune was so lively that 
Goldenhair forgot her queer little barber, and 
the barber himself forgot to gnaw, and would 
have danced a jig in her hair if he had not been 
called to order by the birds. 

At last it was done. Indeed it did not take 
long, and Goldenhair, lifting her head, felt that 
she was free again. She jumped up with de- 
light, then stood for a minute looking down at 
the little nest. It was wonderfully pretty, and 
now that her trouble was over, she was glad 
she had had a share in making it. 

It’s the prettiest nest I ever saw, ” she said. 

I’m so glad we didn’t have to spoil it. ” 

Oh, that would have broken our hearts,” 
said the birds, It is the most beautiful nest in 
the world. ” And one of them added, tipping 
her head shyly, ” But it will be more beautiful 
still when four spotted eggs are in it. ” 

I should like to see it then,” said Golden- 
hair eagerly, May I come and bring my 
mother with me? She will want to see it too. ** 


Goldenhair and the Bird’s-Nest 49 

“ Yes, indeed,” said the birds. We are not 
afraid to trust you, you have been so kind. We 
will gladly let your mother see it.” 

“ Oh, thank you,” said Goldenhair, and 
now I must run home. Good-bye.” 

“ Good-bye, Good-bye,” sang the birds. 

“ Good-bye, ” cried Goldenhair again, look- 
ing back for a last nod and smile at the happy 
pair. ” I shall bring my mother very soon. ” 

But Goldenhair’s mother never saw that little 
nest. Although she came with Goldenhair and 
they searched the woods together, along its 
mossy banks, under the bushes, and among the 
ferns, they could not find it. Even when Gol- 
denhair’s brother brought his keen eyes to help 
them they could find no trace of it. 

“ The birds have hidden it away,” said Gold- 
enhair. 

But her mother smiled. Perhaps the nest 
was a part of your dream that afternoon, ” she 
said. 

At this Goldenhair shook her head most de- 
cidedly. 

Oh no indeed, ” she said. “ There was 
really and truly a nest with my curls woven into 
it. And you would have seen just where the 


so 


Two and One 


hair was cut off if it had not been in such a 
tangle when I got home/' she added earnestly. 

Her mother smiled again. There was no 
doubt at all that the pretty curls had been un- 
commonly tangled that night. 

“ I tell you you ought to have brought the 
nest home in your hair, ” said the little brother 
— he had said it more than once — That is 
what I would have done if I had been in your 
place. ” 

It would have been the best way if they 
would have let me, ” said Goldenhair with a 
sigh. But it crossed her mind, as she said it, 
that the birds had been wise in refusing, for 
had they not said it would be hard for her to 
find the place again ? 

She is hunting for it still, and though she 
has not found it, she is sure that somewhere in 
the woods, hidden away among the moss and 
leaves, is a little brown nest woven in and out 
with her own bright hair. 


Ben declared that this story was worth forty 
of the other, but Bonnie was not quite satisfied 
with it. 


Goldenhair and the Bird's-Nest 51 

** I just wish you would tell us whether the 
nest was really there, or whether it was all a 
dream, ” she said. 

“ My dear, laughed the grown up person, 
that is more than I know myself. ” 


V 


THE FIREFLY AND THE STAR 

It was a great delight to the children to sit 
on the veranda of their big country home in the 
summer twilights and watch the fireflies flitting 
about in the meadow across the road. Some- 
times they tried to count them, as they tried to 
count the stars coming out in the sky, but they 
always gave it up in a little while, there were 
so many. 

Once Bonnie said she thought the fireflies 
and the stars must be brothers and sisters, be- 
cause they both had the same kind of work to 
do, making the world bright after the sun had 
gone down, and the grown up person said this 
was a capital idea. A little while after, when 
they had been sitting for a longer time than 
usual without talking, she told them this story 
of the Firefly and the Star. 

The firefly was shining in the meadow grass. 
The star was shining in the sky above. Each 
52 


The Firefly and the Star 53 

was one of a twinkling host, but the firefly for- 
got her mates in looking at the star, and the 
star, it seemed, was looking straight at her. 

She was such a young firefly that she knew 
but little of the world. She even thought the 
star was like herself, a fresh new-comer, look- 
ing round with wonder on everything he saw. 
He nodded and twinkled in such a friendly 
manner that she longed to talk with him, but 
they were too far apart for that, so she spoke 
instead to a cricket who was singing in the 
grass. 

Tell me, ” she said, “ what are those strange 
bright creatures that shine so high above us? 
Are they fireflies, too ? 

We call them stars, ’’ said the cricket. 
“ They are fireflies of the sky, but not like your 
company, for they shine the same in summer 
and in winter. Their lights never go out in 
those blue fields. 

Have they been there long ? asked the 
firefly, thinking what a little while it was since 
she herself had come to the meadow. 

“ Long indeed, ’’ said the cricket. No one 
can tell how long. They had their places when 
the world was young and they have never left 


54 


Two and One 


them. Sometimes the clouds roll up and hide 
them, but I have watched, and I know it is the 
clouds that wander, not the stars. ” 

The firefly looked at the stars in deepening 
wonder. Then she asked, But are they never 
tired? Does nothing ever trouble or disturb 
them?^^ 

‘ The cricket did not answer at once. He 
knew much of the world, for he had been in 
every corner of the wide green meadow, and 
he had talked with travelers from other mead- 
ows, but he had never met a traveler from the 
country of the stars. 

‘‘ Ah, ’’ he chirped at length, You must not 
expect me to tell you their story. They keep 
their secrets well. I only know that they are 
always there, shining in every season. When 
our fields grow brown theirs are still blue, and 
when the snow comes down, and all we crea- 
tures here hide away from the cold, the stars 
shine on in the sky as merrily as ever.’* 

At this the firefly felt a great longing. ‘‘ Oh, 
if I could only go and live with the stars ! ” she 
said. It must be better there than here. ” 
And she spread her wings as if to leave the 
meadow behind. 


55 


The Firefly and the Star 

But with all her longing and her trying she 
only fluttered from a blade of grass up to the 
blossom of a tall field lily. Then her wings 
were tired and she could go no higher. 

“ Oh, how far away it is ! ” she panted. Tm 
afraid I can never reach them. 

'' No. said the cricket, “ you cannot reach 
the stars. I have seen that even the birds 
with the strongest wings cannot fly so high as 
that. And I have seen, ” he added, pausing 
just a minute longer beside her, “ that every 
creature has its place, and ours is in the meadow 
grass. 

The firefly did not say anything more. For 
a while she did not stir nor lift her eyes to the 
stars. She thought how grand and strong they 
were, and what a poor weak thing she was her- 
self. But when at last she did look up the star 
was shining on her still, looking softly down, 
as if he did not care for all the space between 
them, nor for all the other things he saw, but 
only for her, a quivering spark in the heart of 
a lily. 

Then she was happy again, and her light 
shone out more brightly than before. 

'' I will stay in my place, she said to her- 


Two and One 


56 

self. ** Yes, I will stay in my place. But I 
will shine like the stars. I will never let my 
light go out. ” 

Just then there was a rushing in the meadow 
grass and the lily swayed to and fro. Then 
something dark and heavy closed around the 
firefly, and a voice cried out, I have caught 
one. See ! I have a firefly in my hand I 

At that, the walls which had closed so 
quickly, opened for an instant, and she saw 
two merry faces bending above her, while an- 
other voice exclaimed, '' Oh the pretty, pretty 
thing! ” 

Then all was dark again, and the firefly knew 
that she was being carried away from her home 
in the meadow, from the cricket, and from all 
her dancing mates. She thought she was 
going away from the star too. 

For a while she struggled to get free, but 
there was no way out of her prison. She only 
bruised her wings against its walls. Then she 
lay still and listened to the voices. 

We will carry it home and keep it for our 
own, said the louder one. ** I know it was 
the brightest firefly in all the meadow. It will 
shine in our room like a star. 


The Firefly and the Star 57 

Then in spite of her grief, the little prisoner 
felt a thrill of joy. 

“ Yes, I will shine like a star, she said to 
herself. Whatever happens, and wherever I 
go, I will shine all the same. 

At last her captors, — who were really a pair 
of children, — stopped running, and the prison 
walls were thrown open again. There were 
more people around the firefly now, with faces 
like the children’s, only older and not so 
merry. 

So you have caught a firefly, ” said one of 
them. “ Give it to me and I will tell you some- 
thing about it. ” 

Then one of the tall strange people took the 
little captive, and holding it very gently, 
pointed to its slender body and the quivering 
rings of light. He told the children of its life 
and ways; of its cousin the glow-worm, and 
of grander cousins in distant lands, who have 
guided travelers through the darkness and 
given laborers light enough to do their work 
at night. He repeated a song which a poet sang 
once, as he watched the fireflies flitting in the 
twilight. 


58 


Two and One 


“ Little dancing, white-fire insect, 

Little flickering, white-fire creature, 

Light me with your little candle, 

’Ere in sleep I close my eyelids, 

’Ere in slumber close my eyelids.” 

Then he handed the firefly back to the child 
who had brought it from the meadow saying, 

“ It is a cheerful little thing, who does its 
part to make the world a pleasant place, and I 
think that our Father, the Father of Lights, has 
shown his power and wisdom in this little crea- 
ture as truly as in the noblest star. 

“ The star, the star again ! ” said the firefly 
to herself. ‘‘ Oh, it must be there is something 
between us. ’’ 

But now another voice told the children it 
was bedtime, and they said good night to these 
tall wise people and trudged sleepily off to bed. 

As they went one of them — the one with the 
softer voice — said, We had better let the fire- 
fly go now. 

‘‘ No, ” said the other, “ I shall put it under 
a glass and we will have it shine in our room 
all night. 

And so the firefly was soon in a new prison, 
a prison not so small as the other had been, and 


The Firefly and the Star 


59 


with clear hard walls through which she could 
see strange things in the place to which they 
had brought her. For a while she looked at 
them with curious eyes, and for a while the chil- 
dren lay in their little beds and sang the poet’s 
song over and over. 

“ Little dancing, white-fire insect, 

Little flickering, white-fire creature, 

Light me with your little candle, 

’Ere in sleep I close my eyelids, 

’Ere in slumber close my eyelids.” 

But by and by their drowsy tones grew 
still. They fell asleep and thought no more of 
their little companion. 

And soon the firefly lay as still as they. She 
was not asleep, but she could not creep any 
more around the narrow circle of her prison 
walls. She was faint and weary in the hot 
close air, and as the hours wore on she thought 
with longing of her meadow home, and of her 
friends all safe and happy in the cool sweet 
grass. She thought of the stars too, the strong 
free stars, who were shining in the sky no 
doubt as calm and bright as ever. And most 
of all she thought of the one that had smiled 
on her so kindly. 


6o 


Two and One 


He saw me among all the rest and cared 
for me, ” she said to herself, “ but he has for- 
gotten me now. He could not miss a poor 
little thing like me. ” 

More dim and sultry grew the prison, and 
dimmer grew the firefly’s failing light. Her 
heart was failing too. 

“ It is all of no use, ” she said feebly. I 
have not done anything as I meant to. I could 
not stay in my place, and now I cannot keep 
my light from going out. Oh if I could only 
see the star once more ! ” 

Just then a wind swept through the win- 
dow. It shook the long loose curtains, and as 
they fell apart the firefly saw once more the 
wide blue sky. Once more she saw the stars, 
and right above her head — surely she could 
not mistake that friendly twinkling smile — 
the star she had loved the best was shining on 
her still, tender and true as ever. 

He nodded to her at the instant, and the 
heart of the firefly trembled with surprise and 
joy. 

“ He must have traveled on with me, ” she 
said to herself. He has seen it all, and knows 
that I have tried my best. ” 


The Firefly and the Star 6i 

Then she gathered all her strength and sent 
one last clear ray out into the night to greet 
him. 

'' Perhaps I shall go to the star after all, ” 
she said to herself. “ Something is happening. 
I am sure I am leaving this place behind. ” 

The next morning the boy lifted the glass 
which had stood all night in the window and 
cried to his sister, The firefly is dead. ” 

“ Yes, ” said the little girl looking down at 
it very sorrowfully, “ the firefly is dead, and 
she added softly, “ We might have let it go. 

“ There are plenty more, ” said the boy, as 
he picked up the little insect and dropped it 
into the grass under the window. 

And so there were. When evening came 
again the meadow was filled with fireflies and 
the sky was full of stars. 


Bonnie said this story was too sad, but Ben 
pretended not to agree with her. 

There were plenty more, as the boy said, ” 
he reminded her. And then he added, '' But I 
guess ril let my fireflies go after this. It's no 
good keeping them. " 


VI 

THE BROOK THAT WOULD NOT WAIT 

The children had never seen a brook, at least 
not the kind that runs winding through the 
hills, with little whirls and waterfalls, and all 
sorts of dashes and delays among grey old 
rocks. In fact there were no hills to speak of, 
nor any rocks worth mentioning around their 
home, and the stream that ran through the 
fireflies’ meadow — a stream with yellow water, 
that spread out at times and dried away at 
other times, in the most astonishing manner — 
they called a creek. 

It was the grown up person who knew about 
the real brooks, for she had played with them 
and heard them talk when she was a little girl, 
and the children were never tired of hearing 
her tell about them. 

The Brook That Would Not Wait was a 
story she told them one day when, as it hap- 
pened, Ben had been wishing it did not take so 
62 


The Brook That Would Not Wait 63 

long to be a man, and had bragged of the won- 
derful things he would do if he were only big- 
ger. There is really a moral in it, and morals 
are tiresome things, but Bonnie liked the story, 
so here it is. 

There was once a brook among the hills 
who fretted because she was such a tiny 
stream, and who said to herself as she ran along 
in her rocky bed, Oh, if I could only get 
away from these walls that hold me in, I would 
spread myself out and be a river. 

It was the birds who had told her about the 
rivers, the birds who could fly with their light 
wings over the hills and see all the wonders of 
the world that lay beyond. 

“ Yes, ” sighed the brook, “ if it were not 
for the rocks that hold me in this narrow place, 
I could be a wide strong river, and ships would 
go sailing up and down my waters, and people 
would build great cities on my banks.’' 

Day after day she said this to herself, 
and more and more she longed to slip away 
from the quiet hills, into the wide world, where 
she could choose her own course, and become 
great and famous. She could no longer be 


64 


Two and One 


content to lie in shadowy little pools, where 
the speckled trout loved to swim and birds 
came for their morning bath. 

She grew restless and unhappy, and at 
length, with a wild leap, she flung herself over 
a rock, where the hills gave a narrow opening, 
and had her way. Faster and faster she ran, 
until she had left her old haunts far behind her 
and had reached the level meadows where sun- 
shine fell all day long. 

Then, at last, she felt that she was free; but 
though the fields lay open around her, and 
the soft earth yielded at the touch of her waves, 
she was only a tiny stream as she had been be- 
fore. 

“ It must be because I have been shut up 
in the hills so long and have not learned the 
way of the great rivers, said the brook to 
herself. “ But I will try, and soon I shall 
be as large as any. 

Then she reached out on both sides with all 
her might, but she only grew feebler with 
reaching, while her tiny waves lost themselves 
among the grass and reeds. 

“ It is not so easy to be a great river, ” said 
the brook to herself. Perhaps there is not 


The Brook That Would Not Wait 65 

enough of me for that. It might have been 
better if I had staid among the hills. ” 

Then she longed for the grey old rocks 
again and the places which had seemed to her 
so dull, but she knew that she could never go 
back. There was no way now but to go on 
and on. 

By and by she came to a dreary place, 
where the sun fell fiercely upon her as if he 
would drink up all her water, and the sand 
seemed ready to choke her as she crept along. 

It is of no use trying to go any further, 
said the brook to herself. I shall be lost in 
the sand. Oh, how foolish I was to think I 
could be a great river ! ” 

Just as she said this she heard a rushing 
sound, and across the fields she caught the 
flashing of silvery water, with a glimmer of 
white sails above it, like the wings of some 
great bird. 

Why, that must be a river, said the 
brook to herself. “ I will go a little nearer and 
ask him how he grew so strong. ” 

Then, gathering all her strength, she crept 
on, until the broad blue current of the river 
spread out before her like the sky above. And 


66 


Two and One 


she sent a ripple of sound across the sultry air, 
calling, 

Oh beautiful river, tell me how you grew 
so strong. ” 

And the river answered in his rushing voice, 
I stayed among the hills until my time had 
come. Then they opened their gates and sent 
me out. The little brooks lent me their strength 
and every clay I grew. That is all I know. ’’ 
The brook did not call again, but she sobbed 
to herself, “ Perhaps if I had only waited I 
might have grown great and strong too. 

Then she remembered that the river had said 
the little brooks lent him their strength, and 
forgetting herself at last, only hoping that she 
might be of some use to the great river, she 
crept on, until at last she fell, a little trickling 
thread, into his broad, full stream. 

And the river, never pausing, took the bright 
drops in his bosom and swept onward to the 
sea. 


VII 


THE FOUR GIANTS 

Something happened at the house one au- 
tumn day that put a new phase on the story 
telling. A baby came to live with Ben and 
Bonnie, and though he was the dearest little 
creature in the world, there was no doubt at 
all about his being a tyrant. He began by 
keeping the grown up person all to himself for 
a while, and even after she had partly come 
back to the other children they could never be 
sure that he would not set up some claim to 
call her away at any minute. 

It was very trying, but they minded it most 
in the edge of evening, for that was the time 
which had belonged especially to the stories, 
and now the chance of getting one always 
hung on his good behavior, a chance which, to 
tell the truth, was not worth counting on. 

One evening, when he had been acting 
rather worse than usual, and the grown up 

67 


68 


Two and One 


person had said decidedly, in answer to the 
children’s call for a story, ‘'We must wait till 
Teddy is asleep,” Ben and Bonnie were sitting 
in a corner of the nursery talking him over. 

“ I do wish he’d let us have our stories, ” 
said Bonnie, mournfully. 

“ So do I, ” said Ben, and then he added 
with the air of one who has seen a great deal 
of life, “ But that is the way with babies. They 
never seem to think about anybody but them- 
selves. Sometimes I wish Teddy didn’t live in 
this house. ” 

“ Oh, oh ! ” cried Bonnie. She could not go 
so far as this, and she looked at Ben reproach- 
fully. “ You were real glad when he came, ” 
she reminded him. “ You clapped your hands 
when papa told us we had a little brother. ” 

“ Yes, ” Ben admitted, “ but that was be- 
fore I had seen him. I ’sposed he was big 
enough to do some things like other folks. 
Papa didn’t tell us how awful little he was and 
how queer he was going to act.” 

There had been some oversight of this sort 
on the part of the head of the house, and even 
Bonnie could not feel that he had been quite 
open in the matter, but she sent a glance at 


The Four Giants 69 

Teddy just then, and he looked so sweet that 
she forgave everybody. 

‘‘ He’s getting bigger every day, Ben, and 
he’s so cunning, ” she said pleadingly. And 
then she added brightly, “Just see how still he 
is! I do believe he’s most asleep.” 

They both looked for a minute at the baby. 
The grown up person had him in her arms, 
and as she sat rocking him in a low chair be- 
fore the fire, she was crooning a song that went 
something like this. 

The mother bird sings, as she sits on her nest, 

With her bare little brood all under her breast, 
Softly and low, when the sky is aglow, 

A song that the bird knows the best. 

The wind of the West, as it goes on its way. 

Has a slumberous song at the close of the day. 
And low bend the heads, in the violet beds. 

At sound of the lullaby lay. 

The stars in the sky, all watchful and bright. 
Looking down on the world so weary at night. 

Sing together again, as sweetly as when 
They sang at the dawning of light. 

Then I too will sing when the daylight is done. 

Sing a song of my love to my own little one. 

No birdie so fair, no blossom so rare. 

In all the worlds under the sun.. 


70 


Two and One 


There was not much to be said for the music 
nor the measure either, but the sentiment was 
what disturbed Ben most. 

If she keeps on like those others she’ll be 
singing to him all night, ” he said in a discon- 
solate tone. “ And he isn't most asleep. You 
can see him wiggle. Say, Bonnie, ” he ex- 
claimed, a moment later, as a new idea came 
into his head, “ You rock me in the cradle a 
little while and I’ll play I’m going to sleep 
myself. I want to see how it feels. ” 

Now the cradle was one of the high, old- 
fashioned sort, with four tall, twisted posts, 
each ending in a round knob at the top. It had 
been Ben’s cradle once, and Bonnie’s after- 
wards, but it had grown so short for them that 
they had to curl themselves up to keep their 
feet from sticking through the bars at the end 
when they lay down in it now-a-days. 

Ben climbed into it now and settled himself 
as cozily as he could, with his head on the 
pillow and his eyes shut tight, while Bonnie 
rocked and sang to him like a genuine little 
mother. It was all very drowsy, and Ben, who 
was quite tired out with play, was just think- 
ing it was no wonder that babies went to sleep 


The Four Giants 


71 

in such a place, when something queer hap- 
pened. 

The four tall posts seemed all at once to 
bend together above him. Then they nodded 
at each other in a knowing way, and a voice 
said, 

'' It’s all right now. How sweet he looks ! ” 

For a moment Ben thought it must be Bon- 
nie who was speaking, but he knew the voice 
was not hers, as it went on. 

One might almost think he was a baby 
still, and to my thinking we never rocked a 
prettier one. ” 

'' Hm-m,” said another voice (and for a 
moment Ben felt a hitch in the rocking). 
That’s just what you’ve said about every baby 
for the last fifty years. For my part I can’t 
see it. Babies are not what they used to be ! ” 

Ben was so astonished that for a moment 
he could not stir nor make a sound. He 
looked hard at the four posts. They were 
posts no longer. In their places stood four 
stately figures, strangely tall and straight — 
their long slender arms stretched out where 
the sides of the cradle had been, and their 
round, brown faces looking down at him. 


72 


Two and One 


They must be giants. Ben knew it at once, 
though they were not in the least like those he 
had heard about in the stories. 

The one who had just spoken stood at the 
lower left hand corner, and as Ben looked at 
him closely, he saw that he had a scar on one 
cheek, which gave him a melancholy, one-sided 
look. The giant who stood next, had a 
feather waving in the top of his head, which 
Ben remembered sticking into one of the posts 
a few hours before. He could not so distinctly 
see the faces of the two who stood above him, 
but it was plain that they all looked enough 
alike to be brothers. 

He began to feel uneasy in the presence of 
these tall creatures, and wished that he could 
get away, but he was afraid to move lest they 
should all seize upon him at once, and though 
they had but one arm apiece, he felt sure they 
would be able to hold him. 

They must have guessed how he felt, for one 
of them remarked in a quieting tone, Oh, 
you needn^t be afraid of us, we wouldn’t hurt 
you for anything in the world. ” 

Ben felt relieved. “ Then you’re not the 


The Four Giants 73 

kind of giants that eat up babies, ” he said 
timidly. 

‘‘ Oh, dear no, said all of them at once, 
‘‘ we never ate up a baby in our lives. Do we 
look as if we ate up babies ? ” 

Ben stared at them more intently than be- 
fore. He was sure that the giant who said 

Fee-fi-fo-fum, ” in the story, had been very 
stout and fierce-looking, but these giants were 
not stout at all. In fact, they were remark- 
ably slim. And as for looking fierce, — their 
faces wore a very mild expression, and it even 
appeared that they had no teeth. 

“ No, I don^t think you look that way at 
all, he said on reflection, But would you 
mind telling me what you do eat ? 

** We don’t eat anything,” said one of them. 

We ate enough to last us before we went into 
this business. All that we live on now is the 
smell of catnip tea. ” 

Ben thought this was very queer indeed, 
but he did not say so, for he knew it was dread- 
fully impolite to call people’s tastes in question 
on such matters. He did not like the smell of 
catnip tea himself. He did not like the taste 


74 


Two and One 


of it either, unless there was a great deal of 
sugar in it. Still, there was no accounting for 
likes and dislikes. 

But isn’t it a good while between the smells 
{sometimes ? ” he ventured. 

“ Yes, indeed, ” sighed the giant, who had a 
melancholy face. “ Times are not now as they 
used to be. There were great bunches of dried 
catnip hanging along the rafters of the house 
where we lived at first, and some of it was al- 
ways being steeped for the babies. In these 
days the doctors give them funny little pills in- 
stead. For my part, I don’t think much of 
the doctors. I never have thought much of 
them since that spruce young man told your 
mother that babies never should be rocked. 
‘ It’s enough to unsettle their brains, ’ says he, 
scowling at us. ” 

“ Unsettle their brains indeed ! ” cried all the 
giants swaying violently. He ought to know 
that the steadiest brains in the world belong to 
people who were rocked in cradles when they 
were babies. Where did he get such a notion ? 
Why, the very birds rock in their nests, and 
the world has been swinging around with all 


The Four Giants 


75 

the people in it for thousands of years. Has 
the motion ever hurt anybody yet?’^ 

“ It's my opinion, " added one of the giants, 
nodding sternly at Ben, ‘'that some people 
never had any brains to unsettle. " 

“ I hope he doesn't mean me, " thought Ben, 
and he made haste to say that he liked rocking 
very much indeed. And then he added — for he 
had really been a little afraid that they would 
throw him out when they were rocking so 
hard — “ But I like it best when it goes easy. " 
“We can't go as easy as we used to, " said 
one of the giants. “ Our toes have been trod- 
den on so many times that they are all worn 
off and that makes it hard for us. " 

“ Oh, I didn't know that, " said Ben humbly. 
“ I wouldn't have spoken of it if I had." 

“ Oh, it makes no difference what you say 
about us," said the lower left-hand giant in 
his mournful voice. “ Nobody minds in these 
days. There was a time when everybody had 
a word of praise for us, but now they are al- 
ways hinting something about our looks or 
ways. What did your fine Uncle John say, 
the other day, when he came in and saw Teddy 


76 


Two and One 


in our arms ? He burst out laughing and asked 
your mother why she didn’t send that clumsy 
old concern to the dime museum.” 

“ The dime museum, indeed ! ” echoed the 
others, and for a moment they all shook with 
emotion. Then the first speaker went on, 
“ But nothing he can do or say will ever sur- 
prise me. It was he who tried his first jack- 
knife on my face, and gave me the scar Tve 
carried ever since.” 

And it was he,” cried the giant with a 
feather in his head, who bored a hole in my 
crown, and let out so much of the inside that 
Tve been light-headed ever since.” 

“We might have known that no good would 
come of him, from the kind of baby he was,” 
added another. “ Of all the children to kick 
and scream he was the worst. His mother 
used to call it ' colic,' but I’ve seen the time 
when I thought something besides catnip tea 
might bring him around.” He gave a know- 
ing nod at the other giants, then added, “If we 
ever had wanted to eat up a baby he would 
have been the one.” 

Ben wondered what he should have done for 
tops and Barlow knives if his Uncle John had 


The Four Giants 


77 


been devoured in those days, and he made up 
his mind to tell him, the first time he saw him, 
how glad he was that he escaped. Then it oc- 
curred to him that if Teddy did not learn to 
behave better he might provoke the appetite of 
the giants, and he listened to hear what they 
would say about him. 

But they were not talking of Teddy. The 
lower left-hand giant had begun again about 
how bad the times had grown. “ Ah, these are 
sad, unfeeling days,” he said. When I see 
what a pass things have come to, I sometimes 
think it might have been better if we had never 
left our own country.” 

Where was your own country? ” cried Ben. 

In Wonderland,” said the giant. “ That is 
where all our people live. They used to be a 
bold and stirring race, but they are most of 
them soft-hearted and lazy now-a-days.” 

What made you come away? ” asked Ben. 

The giant shook his head, as if he could not 
find an answer to that question, but a giant 
with a softer voice answered for him at once, 
'' We came for love of the dear little babies, 
and for pity of the busy mothers who had so 
much to do. There was spinning, and weav- 


78 


Two and One 


ing, and knitting to be done, and the mothers 
had no time to rock the little ones in their arms, 
so we did it for them, and left their hands free 
for the work. They could never, never have 
gone through it all without us.’’ 

Shall you ever go back to your homes 
again ? ” asked Ben, who was more interested 
in the giants themselves than in the old times. 

“ Never,” said all the giants shaking their 
heads. Never till we rock a baby who can put 
his whole fist in his mouth at once ! That was 
the sign the fairy god-mother gave us when we 
came away.” 

Oh,” cried Ben, and he was about to tell 
them how near Teddy had come to doing it, but 
the giants interrupted, It can’t be done. 
We’ve seen it tried too often, the mouth is sure 
to be too small or the fist too large. One thing 
or the other always stands in the way. No, we 
shall have to stay at our posts to the end.” 

But there is pleasure in our work still,” 
pleaded the soft-voiced giant. “ What could we 
do without the little children? They are never 
ungrateful. They love us, and clasp us with 
their chubby hands, and hang their playthings 
around our necks — 


The Four Giants 


79 


And grow up to call us clumsy, and want 
us sent to the dime museum ! ” growled the 
melancholy giant, who could not forget that 
dreadful speech of Uncle John's. 

Well,” sighed the other gently, perhaps 
we are a little too clumsy for these new-fash- 
ioned times. There is something wonderful in 
the next house — I can see it through the win- 
dow — for the baby to go to sleep in. It's all 
made of lace and ribbons, and it swings in a 
frame like an oriole's nest in an elm tree.” 

Oh, I know what that is,” said the feath- 
ered giant tossing his head, They call that a 
cradle too, but it's only a basket, and it swings 
by hand. It will be a sad day for us, when we 
are pushed to the wall to make room for such a 
thing as that.” 

“ But whatever comes we must not com- 
plain,” murmured the other. It is true we are 
growing old, and it may be that our work is 
almost finished. But we shall have done our 
part, and when our time comes we must be con- 
tent to stand back and let the world wag on 
without us.” 

Ben was on the point of saying that if they 
were ever sent into the garret he would come 


8o 


Two and One 


to visit them on rainy days, and would see that 
each of them had a bunch of catnip hung 
around his neck, but he was startled just then 
by the sound of a voice that he knew. 

The grown up person was bending over him 
saying, Well, well, here is Ben sound asleep 
in the cradle ! ’’ 

Ben started up and rubbed his eyes. The 
four posts were standing in their places again 
as quietly as if they had been there all the time. 

It was so bewildering that for a minute Ben 
could scarcely tell where he was or what had 
happened. There was only one thing he was 
sure of. 

“ Oh, I wasn’t asleep at all,” he said ear- 
nestly, “ I was just keeping still to hear what 
the giants were saying.” 

The grown up person laughed at this, but 
Ben could not see what there was to laugh at. 
And neither could Bonnie when he told her 
about it afterwards. 


VIII 

THE DOG THAT WORE A WHITE RIBBON 

It was really another story that was the be- 
ginning of this, a story which was written 
years ago, about a dog whose name was Roger 
and a man whose name we do not know. They 
were a pair of vagabond travelers, these two, 
who went wandering about the world, with a 
fiddle to keep them company, having sometimes 
little to eat, and at night no place to sleep but 
the side of the road. Yet the dog held fast to 
the man because he loved him, and the man, 
who had lost all his other friends and his health 
and his home, because of one dreadful habit 
which he could never leave off, loved the dog 
and depended on him. 

“ But he sticks by through thick and thin, 

And this old coat with its empty pockets, 

And rags that smell of tobacco and gin, 

He’ll follow while he has eyes in his sockets. 

8i 


82 


Two and One 


There isn’t another creature living would do it, 

And prove through every disaster. 

So fond, so faithful, and so forgiving 
To such a miserable, thankless master.” 

That was what the man said about the dog. 
What the dog thought about the man is not 
set down. 

It was a tall cousin of the children who re- 
cited this story in the nursery one evening, re- 
cited it so well that their eyes grew big and 
sober as they listened, and the grown up person 
had to whisk the tears out of hers every few 
minutes. 

When it was ended there were a hundred 
questions to be asked. Ben wanted to know 
exactly what kind of a dog Roger was, and 
wished he had one himself that could do such 
tricks ; and Bonnie, who felt very sorry for the 
dog and his master too, wished she could have 
done something to help them. It was Ben who 
demanded suddenly, 

“ But what made the man do it ? Why 
didn’t he stop drinking that stuff, if it hurt him 
so much and got away all his money ? ” 

'' Oh Ben,” cried the grown up person pull- 


The Dog that Wore a White Ribbon 83 

ing him down on her lap, that is what no one 
can tell. It is one of the strange, strange 
things in this world, as you will know by and 
by, that people who love that drink will keep 
on using it when they know it is doing them 
dreadful harm and breaking the hearts of the 
people who care for them. We will have noth- 
ing at all to do with it, you and I.” 

And then, because Bonnie looked so troubled, 
she said a minute later, that she knew a story 
about another dog and his master, a story that 
was not so sad as this, and they should have 
it if they liked. 

They wanted it, of course, and as Teddy, for 
a wonder, was on his good behavior, she began 
at once. 

The name of the dog in this story is Jean, 
and I think he was own cousin to Roger, 
though they could not have looked much alike, 
for trick dogs are usually small, and Jean was 
a great black Newfoundland, one of the largest 
of his kind. But this was the thing in him 
which was like Roger : he had a warm, loving 
heart, and nothing could ever make him leave 


Two and One 


84 

a poor drunken master who had gone from bad 
to worse till he had lost everything except Jean 
himself. 

Now once on a time, a chilly windy time in 
November, it happened, late one afternoon, that 
these two were walking together along a street 
in the town where they lived. The man*s head 
was down, and he stumbled now and then, but 
the dog was looking about him with clear 
watchful eyes, and his steps w^re straight and 
steady. 

As they turned a corner they met a troop of 
children fresh from a meeting of the Band of 
Hope. Their faces were bright, they were sing- 
ing a temperance song, and everyone of them 
wore a little fluttering white ribbon, the badge 
of the Cold Water Army. 

As they met the drunkard and his dog they 
all turned out, all except one little girl, the 
very youngest of the company, who stopped in 
the midst of her song, and looking straight up 
at the man, held out a bit of paper and said 
very earnestly. 

Oh please sir, won’t you sign the pledge? ” 

The man looked at her for a moment in as- 


The Dog that Wore a White Ribbon 85 

tonishment. Then he said, “ No,” in a very 
gruff voice, and turned sharply away. 

The wind twitched the paper out of the 
child’s fingers and sent it whirling down the 
street. The other children in the crowd began 
to laugh, and the little girl who had done this 
strange thing, stood still, looking hurt and 
ashamed. 

“ You might have known that it wouldn’t do 
any good to ask an old toper like him,” said one 
of the boys. 

I don’t see how you dared,” said one of the 
older girls. 

The little girl began to wonder herself how 
she had dared. She hung her head, and then 
she noticed that the drunkard’s dog was stand- 
ing beside her. There was a look in his eyes 
which showed plainly enough that he knew she 
had meant to be kind, and he was grateful for 
the sake of his master. 

The little girl knew something about dogs, 
for she had one of her own that she loved 
dearly, and her heart went out to Jean in an 
instant. It seemed to her he was the only one 
who understood. 


86 


Two and One 


I know you wish he had signed it,” she 
said, patting his head. 

It’s a pity he can’t sign for him,” said one 
of the boys. 

“ He might wear the ribbon,” said another. 

We could tie it on the end of his tail.” 

No, indeed,” cried the little girl, putting 
out her hand to stop some of them who were 
coming nearer. But he can wear it around 
his collar. I will give him mine.” 

She took off the fresh white ribbon that was 
fluttering in a button-hole of her jacket, and 
tied it with a pretty bow on Jean’s collar. It 
must be that he was pleased, for he stood per- 
fectly still while she did it, looking at her with 
his big soft eyes, as much as to say, We 
understand, and we are friends.” Then he 
wagged his tail and trotted off after his master. 

The man had a very sullen look on his face. 
He was not noticing anything around him, and 
he did not know that Jean had lingered for a 
moment behind. He did not see him when he 
came up again at his side. All at once he heard 
a burst of laughter from a shop door, and a 
mocking voice called out, 

So your dog has gone over to the temper- 


The Dog that Wore a White Ribbon 87 

ance folks! He’ll have to part company with 
you if he steers clear of the grog shops.” 

For a minute the man did not know what 
was meant. He stared stupidly at the people 
in the doorway of the shop. Then he turned, 
and for the first time saw the ribbon on Jean’s 
collar. 

“ Here, Jean ! ” he cried angrily, but the dog 
shrank back. 

Bravo, bravo, Jean I Stick to your 
colors ! ” laughed the voice from the shop. 
Then, speaking to the drunkard, it went on. 
Oh, let him wear it. It may make him feel 
as if he belonged to a decent crowd again. Jean 
was a proud dog once and kept good company. 
It’s a shame the way you’ve dragged the poor 
fellow down.” 

A fierce light blazed in the drunkard’s eyes. 
He lifted his fist to strike Jean, but the dog 
crouched at his feet with a piteous whine, and 
the voices in the shop cried, 

'' Shame on you ! Shame ! ” 

Yes, it would be a shame. He knew that as 
well as anybody, and after all he could not do 
it. His hand dropped at his side and he hur- 
ried on. He was walking straighter now. 


88 


Two and One 


These two disagreeable things that had hap- 
pened in the last few minutes had made him 
almost sober, and sober he must stay to-night, 
for he had no money to buy drink. 

So he went on, with the shadows growing 
darker, and the wind blowing colder and colder, 
through back streets, and by narrow alleys, till 
he came to a miserable building in one of the 
worst parts of town. He turned up a flight of 
stairs on the outside of this and went in, but 
he shut the door against Jean, who, since that 
angry word, had been walking sorrowfully be- 
hind, with his head down. The dog had been 
left out in the cold, but he did not go away to 
find a more sheltered corner. He only dropped 
his head between his paws, fixed his eyes on 
the latch and waited. He knew his master 
would want him by and by and he must be 
there to answer. 

But it was long before that latch was lifted. 
The moon came up above the city roofs, climb- 
ing higher and higher, till it filled the chilly, 
windy night with light and shadow, but still the 
drunkard sat in his room, alone except for the 
thoughts that had gone in with him. 

They were not pleasant thoughts. They 


The Dog that Wore a White Ribbon 89 

were a kind that came often when there was no 
drink in his brain to keep them away, and to- 
night they were more bitter than usual, crying 
“ Shame, shame,’’ like the voices in the shop. 

He threw himself on his miserable bed and 
tried to sleep, but sleep would not come, and at 
last, because he could not bear the loneliness 
any longer, he threw open the door. 

There was a quick, glad bark, and in an in- 
stant Jean sprang up and put his paws on his 
master’s breast. For a minute they stood there 
together, the ribbon on Jean’s collar showing 
white in the moonlight, and somehow that little 
thread of silk fastened itself on the drunkard’s 
thoughts, and held them like a chain of steel. 

It was not the first time he had seen a ribbon 
like that on the dog’s dark neck. It came back 
to him in a flash how once his own little girl — 
for he had a little girl once — had put such a 
bow of ribbon there. She had tied a chain of 
daisies with it, and the two had come romping 
down the street to meet him one night when 
he came home from his work. Queer how the 
picture of it came back to him after all these 
years ! He remembered the very dress she had 
worn, and how happy she looked as she called 


90 


Two and One 


him to see the necklace she had made for her 
playmate. 

He set hi? teeth hard as he turned back to 
his room, but he could not get away from the 
memory. 

And now there came other memories, fond, 
tender memories of the days when the child and 
the dog were always together, comrades from 
morning to night. The mother — he remem- 
bered her too with a clutch at his heart — had 
said she was never anxious about the child 
when Jean was with her, he was always so lov- 
ing and true. 

Why did it all come back? It was long ago 
that these things had happened ; before the love 
of the drink that ruined his life took hold of 
him, when he was a busy, happy man, with 
work in plenty and a home as good as any. 
There was nothing left of the home now. He 
had paid it all out for the drink. His wife had 
died of work and grief, and strangers had given 
the child a home. No one was left to him but 
Jean. And then he wondered why Jean had 
not left him too. He remembered how the dog 
had grieved when the child went away, scarcely 
touching food for days, and how he lay, night 


The Dog that Wore a White Ribbon 91 

after night, beside a little ragged dress, that 
she had worn, and moaned. Poor Jean, he had 
not had even the drink to make him forget! 

In the shame and misery of all that came 
back to him, tears ran down the drunkard's 
face, and then his heart grew hard again. He 
hated the little white ribbon that brought back 
the memories now, when everything was lost. 

“ Here, Jean ! " he said, as he had said it be- 
fore on the street, and he laid his hand fiercely 
on the neck of the dog. 

But the dog dropped at his feet again, cry- 
ing and begging, and with that the drunkard 
laughed a queer short laugh. 

‘‘ Do you want to keep the thing? " he said, 
“ Well, have your way. I shall get used to it, 
and what does it matter — a jest more or less at 
me?" 

He threw himself on his bed again, and now 
Jean lay beside him watching. But it was long- 
before sleep came, and when at last it did come 
then came dreams, too. 

He thought he was in that old home again, 
with everything bright and cheery around him, 
just as it used to be. He could hear his wife 
singing at her work, and could see his child. 


92 


Two and One 


with Jean beside her, playing in the sunshine 
at the door. 

Then the sweet dream faded and another 
came. He was wandering through the streets 
again, lonesome and ragged and cold. There 
was no supper waiting for him, nor a place by 
any fireside. There were fingers pointed at 
him, and mocking voices around him, and all 
at once he saw again that ribbon on Jean’s col- 
lar. But when he raised his hand to tear it off 
the dog was gone, and in his place there stood 
a fair white angel with a pleading face. Such 
love and grief were in her eyes that he could 
not stand before her, and he woke trembling 
and ashamed. 

It was only a dream. He was on his bed, in 
his bare little room, and there was no angel 
there, only Jean watching with great sorrowful 
eyes, while a long white ray of moonlight, 
slanting through a broken window, fell across 
the ribbon on his neck. 

At the sight of it he clenched his hands and 
groaned. 

'' It is too late,” he said, ‘‘ too late,” and then 
he turned his face away and tried to sleep again. 

And so, with bitter thoughts and troubled 


The Dog that Wore a White Ribbon 93 

dreams, the night wore away at last, and in the 
morning Jean and his master were afoot again. 

The man must work to-day if any work could 
be found, and he could usually find it when he 
was sober, for he had had a good trade once, 
and knew how to work at it still. There was 
a place where he thought he could get a cup of 
coffee and a piece of bread, and he set out to 
go there, but his feet were heavy and his heart 
was sick and faint. 

He sat down at last on a curb stone to rest 
a little and think what he should do. The 
wind, which had been blowing all night, was 
blowing still, and a mass of leaves mixed with 
other flying things, went whirling past him. 
Among them he saw a copy of the morning 
paper, and the thought came that it might put 
him on the track of something to do. 

Bring me the paper, Jean,’’ he said, point- 
ing after it, and the dog was off and back again 
in a minute with a paper in his mouth. 

But it was not the paper the man had meant. 
It was a little fluttering scrap with a few lines 
printed on one side. 

“ Not that,'’ said the man, but he took it in 
his hand. 


94 


Two and One 


Then all at once he trembled like the leaves, 
and the veins on his forehead stood out like 
cords. The paper the dog had brought was 
the temperance pledge the little girl had lost the 
night before. 

For a minute the wind went down, and a per- 
fect stillness fell on the place where the man 
was sitting. The angel of his dream came 
back to his side, and the dog crouched at his 
feet with beseeching eyes. It seemed as though 
all the world was in league together to make 
him do this thing, and there came a great fear 
into his heart. 

God help me ! ’’ he said in a broken voice, 
and he took the stub of a carpenter’s pencil 
from his pocket and wrote his name in blue 
letters at the bottom of the pledge. 

When he looked up his face was very pale, 
but a new look had come into his eyes. 

‘‘ Now give me the ribbon, Jean,” he said, 
and he took it very gently from the collar of 
the dog, and tied it round the only button on 
his ragged coat. 

That day a happy life began for Jean. For 
his master there began a long hard fight, but he 
made it and he won. He had courage to turn 


The Dog that Wore a White Ribbon 95 

away from the places that had done him harm, 
and he went to a place where there were men 
and women who wanted to help him, who 
wanted to and did. Perhaps without them he 
could not have won his fight. But together 
they did not fail. He kept his pledge and wore 
the ribbon with a humble heart. 

Of the things he had lost there were some 
that came back to him. But the thing he had 
never lost, the love of his brave old Jean, seemed 
to him sometimes best of them all. 


There was a longer silence than usual after 
this story. 

I hope that little girl knew about it,’’ said 
Bonnie at last. 

I hope so too,” said the grown up person 
starting, “ and I shouldn’t wonder a bit if she 
did. It’s queer how things come around.” 

And I like this story better than the one 
about Roger,” said Ben decidedly. 

“ It turned out better anyway,” said the 
grown up person smiling. 


IX 

A CHRISTMAS LEGEND 

They asked for a story that night, when the 
candles on the little tree had burned out, and it 
was really time to go to bed. 

The grown up person looked at them doubt- 
fully. There had been so much fun and feast- 
ing since morning, and they were both so tired, 
that if the day had not been Christmas — the 
time of all the year when nothing else is so 
sweet as giving — she would have said No at 
once. 

But they begged hard for this last favor. 

Tell us a little story, just a little one,” they 
pleaded, and let it be a new one about Christ- 
mas.” 

“ The oldest one of all is the best one there 
is,” she said musingly. 

You mean about the star and the baby in 
the manger? ” said Bonnie. 

The grown up person nodded. 

96 


97 


A Christmas Legend 

But we know that story/’ said Ben. 

“ Not all of it,” said the grown up person, 

Nobody knows it all.” 

Do you know any more of it ? ” they asked 
together. 

** I have heard some things that are not set 
down in the Book,” she said softly. “ They 
are always coming at Christmas. Listen ! ” 

And then, while they sat very still, with 
the light of the fire playing over their faces, 
and Teddy asleep in his cradle, she told them 
this. 

It is only a legend, you know, but they say 
it happened long ago, on that wonderful night 
when angels sang to the shepherds sitting 
among their sheep, and the brightest star of all 
stood over the place where the baby was lying. 

It was the strangest place for a baby, that 
low stone manger, in a barn that was only a 
cave behind an old grey inn, with cattle look- 
ing at him from their places at the sides, and 
heaps of corn and fodder lying on the rough 
uneven floor. 

“ But highe God sometimes senden can 
His grace intoalitel oxes stall,” 


98 


Two and One 


and the grace that was greatest of all had come 
that night. 

It was strange how still the Christ child lay. 
Not once since his mother wrapped him in his 
first soft clothes had he stirred or opened his 
eyes. She wondered as she lay beside him 
watching, and the women who moved softly 
about the low dim place, stooping now and 
then to look at the baby, said they had never 
seen a quietness like his before. 

The shepherds came trooping in, and told 
their beautiful story, and sang the song the 
angels had taught them, and knelt by his side, 
calling him their prince and their king, but he 
did not wake. 

Even when the wise men came and spread 
before him the gifts which they had brought so 
far, and lifting up their hands, spoke strange 
deep things of gifts that were to be, the child 
slept on. 

Morning came in at the narrow door, and 
the cock crowed loud above the manger, and 
the cattle lowed as they lifted their heads, and 
the sheep bleated a welcome to the new day, 
but still the baby slept, with a look of peace 


A Christmas Legend 99 

on his face, as if the sounds of earth were all 
too far away to reach him. 

“ Is there nothing that can wake him ? ” said 
the mother who kept all things in her heart. 

At last a little lad stooped by the manger. 
He was a puny child with a sorrowful face, 
and a mark on his cheek which showed he was 
a slave. He had come to give the cattle their 
morning meal, but he paused in his work a 
moment to look at the child. 

“ I had a little brother once,” he whispered, 
“ and I loved him. But he is gone now. I 
have no one left.” 

And then he sighed, a faint low sigh that 
was only a breath on the baby’s cheek. But 
at the sound the little sleeper stirred. He 
opened his eyes and stretched out his hands 
with a sobbing cry. 

Hush ! You have waked him,” said the 
mother catching him to her breast. 

Then, as the boy shrank back ashamed, she 
said more softly, while a look came into her 
eyes as if she saw things far away, 

“ He will be a brother to you, little one. He 
has come to be a brother to the poor and lonely, 

LoFC. 


lOO 


Two and One 


a friend to all who need. Happy are they that 
mourn, for he will comfort them. He will 
heal the broken hearted. He will set the cap- 
tives free.'’ 

She held him closer as she spoke, and the 
child, with a wonderful light in his face, smiled. 
He had fully waked. 


It is not certain that Ben and Bonnie thought 
this was much of a story, or that they quite 
understood what it meant, but they kissed 
everybody, especially their own little brother, 
more tenderly than usual and stole softly off to 
bed. 


FINALE 

It is strange how fast the days run away 
with children, and how, before they know it, 
they are doing things like their fathers and 
mothers, and getting old and wise. 

One day — it was a few days after that 
Christmas — the grown up person who told 
these stories came upon Ben lying before the 
playroom fire, reading out of a book. He was 
not getting on very fast. He had to spell out 
some of the words and guess at others, but 
somehow he was making out the sense, and 
his face was all alive with interest, as he 
moved it slowly over the page. 

The grown up person stood still and looked 
at him, with a look like the one she had had 
on the day when he slipped out of kilts into 
his first little trousers, only a great deal more 
sober. 

Suddenly Ben saw her. ‘‘ I can read to my- 
self I See, I can read to myself ! he cried 


lOl 


ica 


Two and One 


jumping up, and he told her what was on the 
page very fairly indeed. “ Now I shall not 
have to wait for stories any more,’' he said, 
taking in a great breath. I can have them 
whenever I please. I will read all there are in 
the books.” 

** Yes, you will be going out into the world 
for yourself very soon now,” said the grown 
up person slowly. She drew a long breath too, 
but it did not sound quite like his. 

“ It’s a wonderful world, Ben, the world of 
books — a beautiful, terrible world,” she said. 
And then, all at once, tears sprang into her 
eyes, she gave him a great hug, and left him 
alone with his book. 








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